


This And That

by lindsey_grissom, phantomunmasked



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, Gen, a lot of fluff, a whole bunch of berena, and some general holby flailing, even more nonsense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-08-11 13:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7894399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindsey_grissom/pseuds/lindsey_grissom, https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomunmasked/pseuds/phantomunmasked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place for the two of us to put all the mini-drabbles and headcanons that we have a tendency to write and flail over during chats.  You might find them interesting, you might think we're mad.  We blame berena really...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Holiday That Wasn't

**Author's Note:**

> This one is literally just a headcanon that came up after Thursday's episode. It's really not a real fic in any sense of the word, although that's not to say it never would become one eventually.

Serena has a week off. 

A week where she was going to be sunning it up in Italy and now she...isn’t. 

Serena has one day where she’s home with Jason and she already did the cleaning because she was planning on being gone for a week and there are meals stacked up in the freezer that will probably be there until Christmas now. So she spends the day reading and sitting in the garden with a jug of iced tea - barely remembering sun tan lotion before she’s burnt the top of her nose to a crisp.

She makes lunch and tries to make Jason’s ham and cheese sandwich a little special but can only manage putting it on the good plates and adding a poured out bag of ready salted crisps for him because otherwise he won’t enjoy it.

And after lunch she’s back outside wondering if maybe it’s time she pulled up the flower beds and planted new ones, but can she really be bothered? The answer today is no, so she reads some more and dozes off in the sun - sun tan lotion slathering her nose and cheeks white - with her book open against her chest and Vivaldi playing away in her ears on the playlist Bernie made up for her to help her relax.

She wakes up around 5pm and gets to work on dinner - it’s pie night so she has a bit to do since she’s home anyway and she’s dancing around the kitchen bare feet slip-sliding across her wooden floors while she gets everything ready. Adding a little cream and cheese to the mash just because she can.

They eat at the table and Jason tells her he has to work tomorrow and she nods and points her fork to his schedule on the fridge. “Yes, I know. What do you want in your sandwiches?”

And as they’re washing up after dinner he suggests that maybe she should do something tomorrow because he won’t be there to keep her company and also the sun isn’t that good for her and he doesn’t think the red-nose look suits her at all.

They watch World’s Strongest Man because they have about two seasons stacked up on the hard drive and halfway through the second episode, Serena takes her phone into the hallway and sits on the stairs and calls Fletch. She asks about all the Fletchlings and then asks if maybe Evie wouldn’t like to spend the day with her? She’s as good as any babysitter and she can keep an eye on that infection?

Fletch knows Evie would love to and really he’s not going to say no, especially still feeling so guilty about the complaint and Serena missing her holiday.

So they agree that he’ll drop her off on the way into work tomorrow and Serena hangs up and just leans back against the stairs for a moment tapping her phone against her chin with a smile. And then Jason calls her from the living room; “Auntie Serena, you finished your call approximately 2 minutes ago. You’re missing the train tug.”

She heads back into the living room with a chuckle and watches the show with half a mind, while planning out all the things she and Evie can do tomorrow.

She’s thinking of baking cupcakes and shortbread and watching some girly rom-coms and maybe she could come up with an in-house afternoon tea if she whips up some scones first thing and runs out to Tesco to grab a fresh cucumber.

She dozes off curled up in the corner of the sofa and figures this really could be as good for her as the Amalfi coast after all, but she’ll definitely be giving Elinor a ring in the morning.


	2. No need to imagine...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically... Me being a troll to a friend and imagining various Berena situations. 
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry some of them are kind of smutty. Just my preferred way of torturing friends. 
> 
> \- p

No need to imagine Bernie grabbing Serena by the hips and pinning her against the wall, immediately going for a hickey just above her collarbone.

Certainly no need to imagine Bernie sliding a hand up Serena's shirt, deftly unhooking Serena's bra, sliding round front to brush her fingers over _that_ spot that makes Serena's knees buckle and which rips a moan straight from her.

Also no need to imagine Bernie surging forward, her knee pressing between Serena's legs, and Serena's hands fisted in Bernie's hair. Serena's panting like mad now, and Bernie changes tack, slips off Serena's loose overshirt and tugs off her blouse, her bra. Immediately bends her knees and applies tongue and teeth in the most effective way she can muster (which is _very_ effective indeed).

And Serena, with one almighty groan, pushes Bernie back and undoes Bernie's trousers, pushes right down with a growled "Why do you have to wear such tight trousers," but persisting anyway, forearm muscles burning as Bernie kisses her, all while copping a feel of Serena's lovely bum.

* * *

Also no need to imagine Bernie and Serena having a conversation, and then Serena proceeding to go up the stairs in front of Bernie; and then suddenly Serena realises she's speaking to thin air because Bernie's just staring at Serena's bum.

And Serena just continues, because she knows that Bernie's eyes are _glued_  to her butt. With an extra sashay, she swaggers off.

And then that night, when Bernie clatters home after Serena, she finds Serena in bed, lying on her front, reading something, wearing nothing but a sheet, draped so that _nothing_  is left to the imagination. The sheet covers her from the small of her back to the back of her knees. Serena looks over her shoulder, muscles in her back flexing.

"Welcome home, Major."

Serena's lips are wine-stained, her eyes smoulder-dark. She tips her head to the side in silent invitation, and Bernie drops her satchel, starts forward with a quick stumble as she hastily sheds her shoes, her shirt, her trousers. Serena watches with good humour, props herself on her side, demurely clutching the sheet to her chest.

"No need to hurry on my account, dear," she purrs, licking her lips as she watches more and more of her lover come into view.

Bernie laughs at that, a throaty laugh rasping out of her as she ambles over in her underwear. Props one knee onto the bed, hovers over Serena and kisses her, slow and deep.

"Hello," Bernie mutters, sliding a hand down Serena's bare back, rests on her hip and squeezes, kneads gently. Serena hums happily and loops her arms around Bernie's neck, rolling onto her back and pulling Bernie down on top of her.

* * *

Certainly no need either to imagine Serena finding Bernie in the locker room, where Bernie's just thoughtlessly stripped off her scrub top and is rummaging around her locker for her shirt because what is privacy in the army?

And Serena's question as to where Bernie wants to go for dinner dies on her tongue because she sees Bernie there, naked from the waist up except for a black bra, all corded muscle and faint scars from battlewounds and Serena just stands and stares for a while.

Bernie is totally aware that she's there, of course; she lets Serena stare for a while before husking "enjoying the view, Ms Campbell?" before she lets the shirt drop down over her head.

Serena just manages to pick her jaw up off the floor as Bernie picks up her bag and swaggers towards her, stopping a hairsbreadth in front of Serena. "Dinner?" Bernie smirks, a quick kiss to Serena's lips as she stalks out, a cheeky pat to Serena's bum on her way out.

* * *

No need to imagine their first kiss either; could it be Bernie just wants to shut Serena up, because Serena's just on the brink of panicking since nothing she's saying seems to be getting through to Bernie to comfort her?

So Bernie grabs Serena and kisses her.

And Serena's goes "mfph" but then reciprocates automatically before her brain kicks in and she pulls away. Considers Bernie for two long seconds before grabbing her and kissing again.Pulls back again with her hands still on Bernie's cheeks and presses their foreheads together.

"We have to talk," Bernie whispers, panting slightly.

Serena nods and swallows before pulling her hands back, not meeting Bernie's eyes as she gets up and makes for the door. Bernie catches hold of Serena's hand and stops her, tugging at her wrist until Serena looks her in the eye again.

"Thank you," Bernie whispers, and Serena nods, gives a teary smile before slipping her hand out of Bernie's grip and disappearing through the door.

* * *

No need to imagine a medical conference on trauma medicine where Bernie is treated like a superstar and Serena feels pretty left out and deflated. Bernie notices, so she all but hauls Serena to her side and wraps a proprietary hand around Serena's waist and places a warm hand on Serena's hip. They continue making the rounds in the room with Serena plastered to Bernie"s side and Serena can't answer half the questions politely thrown her way cos she's so distracted by Bernie's brilliance (army medic in her element) and the closeness of her lover.

  
Certainly no need to imagine any of this at all. 


	3. Dinner with the Campbells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Edward is a crass shit that needs to be taken down a notch or two. - p

 

"You ready for this?" Bernie tilted her head back to squint at the house, taking in the picture perfect example of suburbia.   
  
"Only one way to find out," Serena muttered, raising a fist to rap smartly on the door before them.   
  
"Coming!" A voice entirely too cheerful for Bernie's liking chirped and she sighed internally, slipping her hand into Serena's. A reassuring squeeze answered her and she hitched a grim smile onto her face, shaking her fringe out her eyes. 

"Hi! So glad you're here! It's  _lovely_ to see you again, Serena! Hello, you must be Bernie! I'm Liberty! But you can call me Libbie. Oh, we're just going to have _such_ a good time, I know it! Come in, come in!" 

Bernie said nothing, only raised an incredulous eyebrow at her lover once her free hand had been released by their enthusiastic host.  

 _I know,_ Serena's answering eyebrow said and Bernie shook her head. Edward's embryo, indeed.   
  
"Dinner's just through here, Eddie pulled out all the stops for you guys - we got out the good china and even shopped at _Waitrose_ and everything! Speaking of - honey, look who's just arrived!"

And there he was, Bernie thought.  _The Ex._

She nodded at him as her eyes swept him up and down, measured him against Serena's (less than complimentary) description of him. Tall, with the requisite receding hairline (she found an odd, hysterical relief bubbling up that Marcus didn't seem to have that problem), reading glasses that slid down the tip of his nose, an apron emblazoned with "KISS THE COOK" tied neatly around his frame. She hadn't been exaggerating, then. Odiousness rolled off the man in waves. 

"Serena! There you are! I made your favourite - Coq Au Vin, just the way your mother made it."

"I highly doubt that, Edward, given that you only ever had it once, and that was twenty years ago." 

"Awh, come on, Serena. Can you blame a man for trying?" 

"When it comes to you, Edward, I always can," Serena muttered, tugging Bernie forward by the hand.   
  
"You must be Bernie!" Edward hurried over, hastily wiping his hand against the front of his apron as he offered it forward.   
  
"The very same," she replied, taking the proffered hand as she stepped closer, looking him dead in the eye. She could feel the silence stretch around them as they stared each other down, could smell the chicken and the wine (and telltale reek of alcohol on his breath - so that was  _still_ a problem, then) and hear the clock in the hall chime seven.   
  
It was Serena that broke the moment, stepping close to Bernie's side, slipping an arm about her waist.   
  
"Well. Now that everyone knows everyone, I believe you were about to offer us something to drink, weren't you, Edward?" 

"What?" Edward's brow furrowed and Bernie fought her smirk as he withdrew his hand, his gaze flicking over Serena's face.

"Yes, yes, of course! Wine?" 

"Thank you, Libby. Red, if you have it."

Serena's smile was surprisingly warm as she addressed the young woman and Bernie leaned into her lover's warmth, a possessive hand over Serena's where it gripped lightly at her hip.   
  
It was going to be one of those evenings, she could just tell. 

 

* * *

 

An hour and three glasses of whiskey later and it was most definitely one of those evenings.   
  
"So. Bernie. Bern. Can I call you Bern? How's the old girl in bed, then? She still as shy and quiet as she used to be?"  
  
Another generous gulp of whiskey.  
  
"You know, Serena, for such a sexy woman during the day you really were awfully quiet in bed," Edward slurred as he all but slammed his glass down, pointed a wavering finger at Liberty.   
  
"This one here - now that's what you want in bed. A proper screamer, she is. Two orgasms, easy, every other night. Just goes to show the old boy's still got it in him, eh? Remember the old times, darling? D'you even remember what a real orgasm feels like now, or would you like me to show Bern here how it's done, eh?" 

"Edward, I really don't think-" Liberty's false cheer was drowned out by Bernie's growl of "How dare you -" and the scrape of the chair as she rose.  
  
Serena lay a hand on Bernie's forearm, silenced her with a look and pushed her to sit back down. 

Silence, for a long moment, as Edward leered at Bernie, smug smile and cocky eyebrow continuing his silent taunt. 

"Is two the best you can do?" Serena's voice was low as she stood, leaned forward to come inches from Edward's face.

"What?"   
  
"Is two the best you can do?" Serena demanded, again and Bernie inhaled sharply, leaned back in her chair. She knew what was coming next. 

"Of course not, I-"

Serena ignored him, turned to the blushing young woman cowering at the table.

"He can't even manage one for you before grunting and rolling over to sleep, can he? Leaving you high and probably too dry for you to finish yourself off?"

"I-"

"Oh, Liberty. Don't pretend for his sake. Life's too short."   
  
Bernie threw the young woman a sympathetic look as she shrunk back in her chair, picked up her glass of wine to nurse as she watched the carnage unfold. 

"For your information,  _Edward_ ," Serena straightened, crossed the table to stand by her ex-husband's chair; leaned down to speak directly in his ear as she watched Bernie, held her lover's eyes with that intoxicating mix of vindictive anger and wicked amusement as she delivered her  _coup de grâce._

"Bernie here - on top of being a supportive, beautiful, gracious and entirely too  _generous_ lover who might very well be the love of my life - tops that. Two? Please. That's a slow day, for us." 

Bernie almost snorted into her wine at how quickly the ruddiness drained from Edward's face, but settled for a smirk and a small, encouraging nod at Serena to continue.   
  
"Four," Serena whispered, breath ghosting over Edward's cheek as she leaned in. 

"What?" Edward croaked, strangled.   
  
"Four. Or more. That's what I get, most nights. So  _yes_ , Edward. I  _do_ remember what an orgasm feels like, especially since Bernie here is so kind as to remind me. Constantly." 

Serena's smirk bordered on criminal as she sauntered back to Bernie, looped her arms about her from behind as she rested her chin on her lover's shoulders. Twin axinite gazes regarded Edward cooly from across the table and he gulped, reached for his glass and drained it.   
  
"Not feeling like such a big man now, are we?" Serena's voice was a growl and Bernie shivered involuntarily, as she felt it reverberate through her from behind. 

Edward's eyes widened and flicked away, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, aggressively. 

"We're going," Serena murmured, threw one last smile at Liberty before she straightened up and stalked down the hall.   
  
"Just coming," Bernie muttered in reply, standing to follow.   
  
She paused in the doorway, tapped a decisive palm against the doorjamb as she turned back.   
  
Edward's eyes were defiant as she approached, wary with jealousy and confused rage. 

"See you around, big man," Bernie whispered, leaning down to pat him on the cheek. The strangled whine that followed her down the hallway only widened her smirk. 

"Ready?" Serena's voice was warm, warmer than it had been the entire night.  
  
"Let's go home, love," Bernie sighed and linked her arm with her lover's as they stepped back out into freedom.  
  
Their freedom. 


	4. Household Accidents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little nothing drabble I envisioned set when Bernie and Serena are on the cusp of something more...

“Stop fussing. I’m fine.”

Gentle fingers curl tighter around Serena’s arm, carefully avoiding the slight swelling at her wrist.

“Serena…”

“Ms Wolfe.”

“Serena.” Familiar pleading eyes accompanied by another squeeze of her arm has Serena flopping back into her chair with a lazy wave.

“Fine, fine. You win.” Bernie shoots her a smug grin before looking back to where she’s cradling Serena’s arm, smile falling as she concentrates.

Wincing as her hand is twisted side-to-side, Serena watches Bernie slip into her own version of ‘Doctor-mode’, humming very now and again as she prods and pokes. There are so many better ways she’s imagined those fingers wrapped around her own again and none of them had Bernie looking at her so clinically.

Eventually, Bernie gives one final careful twist of her hand and lets go, her fingers dragging slowly across Serena’s palm.  Swallowing, Serena straightens up from her slump, remembering at the last moment not to cross her arms and instead letting them drop to rest in her lap as Bernie hoists herself up onto the edge of the desk.

“So what’s the verdict Ms Wolfe; will I live?”

Bernie levels her with a glare. “It’s best to be sure, you might have broken it, or torn the ligament.”

Serena feels the corners of her mouth lift. “But I haven’t have I? It’s just a simple little twist isn’t it?” Like she’d insisted it was from the start and all through their drive in this morning. “I landed on it funny this morning, nothing a bit of time won’t fix.”

“And that’s your medical opinion, is it?” Bernie is definitely pouting now and it takes more effort than Serena cares to admit, to keep her eyes focused above Bernie’s nose.

“My medical opinion is that you owe me a large glass of Shiraz for leaving your shoes scattered around my living room floor, where anyone could trip on them.”

“Where only you tripped on them.”

“Where anyone could trip on them,” She narrows her eyes. “I’ll take payment tonight at Albies.”

“Fine, far be it from me to go against doctor’s orders.” Bernie hops off the desk, her hip knocking Serena’s carefully balanced pile of files dangerously close to the edge. “Although you really should wrap that wrist.”

“It’s fine.” Serena waves her off. “Go waste hospital resources on some real patients.”

Bernie salutes her on the way out, the door clicking shut behind her and Serena leans back in her chair again.

Raising a hand to rub at the skin between her eyes, she winces and switches hands, flexing out her wrist. Bloody army woman; weren’t they supposed to drill out messiness in the forces?

Tonight she’s making the woman line her shoes up by the front door.


	5. Five Times they nearly had their First Time (and one time they did)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These aren't really the fully fledged version of what I kind of wanted to write, just sort of summarised versions. But I don't really have the time to write them now, so before they get lost to the abyss of the interwebs I decided I should plonk them here for future reference. 
> 
> All thanks should go to muddlethrough because she basically planted the seed of how some of these should go in my brain. 
> 
> \- p

**1.**

They agree on it weeks before. Romantic dinner at Leandro's, wine and roses and the most decadent chocolate for dessert. Then back to Serena's, because Bernie wanted Serena to feel at home (literally) for their first time. Unfortunately for them, Robbie the Bobbie has also chosen to dine at Leandro's that night, and that quite kills any mood Bernie was working up to. She spends the night listening to Serena confess her fears that Bernie won't be able to take both her and Jason because they're a package; Bernie doesn't say much, just kisses Serena and promises to try.

 

* * *

 

**2.**

Bernie's in the locker room after a long shift, just about to change out of her scrubs. A sudden clatter and Serena's standing there, all dark eyes and cheeky grin.

"Hello, you," Bernie's voice is a murmur as Serena closes the door behind her with a snap, advances on her girlfriend with a deliberate sashay.

"Ms Wolfe," Serena purrs and Bernie's lips curve upwards in a smile against Serena's as she finds herself kissed, thoroughly.

Serena has her pinned against the locker and her hands are burning trails against Bernie's hip, slipping under her scrub top to trace her ribs, rake nails gently over her lower back. The door rattles and Serena all but leaps backwards, her terror almost comical. It's only Raf that wanders in and he spares them both a tired smile (he had two amputations and a spleen removal) before turning to get changed.  

With a quiet "night, see you tomorrow," Raf leaves, but not before throwing a knowing smile at them both.

"At least it was only Raf. He won't say anything. Would've been worse if it were Fletch."

"Mmmm. Sorry, I just..."

"No, don't. Come here," Bernie tugs Serena close, gives her a long slow kiss.

"We'll know when the time is right."

 

* * *

 

**3.**

The third time they almost have their first time, they're having the biggest row that they've ever had.

It had started small, something about Bernie _still_ lying to Serena and Bernie denying that she had and the two of them had progressed to snapping at each other across the room.

Until Bernie couldn't take Serena's insinuations anymore and stalked over, stabbed a finger against Serena's sternum to punctuate her point.

"I made you a promise and you don't believe me."

"Well how can I, you don"t have the best track record"

"SERENA. URGH JUST-"

"Mpfh." Bernie grabs Serena's face and kisses her, holds her cheeks and glares into her eyes.

 "NOT. LYING."

And because Serena cannot help who she is, her eyes flick down to Bernie's lips again and suddenly she's surging forward, biting Bernie's lip savagely as she shoves Bernie painfully against the desk. Bernie matches her move for move, fingers bruising as they grip Serena's hips and thrusts a rough knee between Serena's legs.

Only - when Serena grabs the top button of Bernie's trousers Bernie pulls back, shoves Serena away. Her lip is bleeding slightly and she winces as she moves, her shirt brushing against where Serena had scratched her.

"Not like this," she gasps, wriggles out from where Serena is pinning her down.

Serena's still lust-dazed, eyes tracking Bernie's lips and the inviting line of her neck, her collarbones.

"Not like this,"Bernie repeats and presses one last hard kiss to Serena's swollen lips before leaving.

 

* * *

 

**4.**

Serena's humming along to some Ella Fitzgerald as she stirs their dinner, cooking on the stove. Bernie wanders in, mug of coffee still warm after she'd finished her drink.

"Pass me the pepper?"  Serena's smile is in her voice and Bernie obeys, snags the small bottle on her way back from the sink. She passes it to Serena, pressed right up against Serena's back, her chin resting on Serena's shoulder as she sets the pepper down by Serena's right hand.

"Thank you," Serena rewards her helpful assistant with a quick peck to the lips, and Bernie gives her hip an affectionate rub before pulling out a kitchen chair to read the latest copy of the Lancet that Serena had been reading.

Ten minutes later Bernie looks up at the sound of the oven door sliding shut and Serena singing softly along to "Someone To Watch Over Me". Impulsively, Bernie puts the journal down and stands, sweeps Serena into her arms when she turns around. They sway gently on the spot, Serena's head on Bernie's shoulder, ear pressed against her heart.

Bernie hums along and Serena looks up, stretches up to kiss Bernie. One kiss, then two, then three and Bernie chuckles when the track switches to "I Put A Spell On You", because Serena catches on to the meaning with devilish delight; she undoes Bernie's buttons whilst mouthing along to the song, and Bernie grins, pulling Serena flush against her by the hips.

Bernie's just about to slip a hand under Serena's shirt and bra when they hear a very familiar "Auntie Serena?"

Serena groans and quickly tugs the two halves of Bernie's shirt shut over her flushed chest before pulling away.

Bernie whines, actually _whines_  at the loss of contact and Serena points a finger at her from her safe position on the other side of the kitchen table.

"Not my fault!" Serena hisses and Bernie pouts and glares, then changes tactic to _those_  puppy eyes, peering through that mussed fringe of hers.

"Oh, _stop,_ " Serena moans in frustration as she pats her hair back in place.

Bernie huffs and stalks out of the kitchen just as Jason wanders in.

"Oh hello Auntie Serena, is that Shepherd's pie I smell burning slightly?"

"That's not the only thing burning up," Serena mutters darkly, as she slams the oven door open. 

 

* * *

 

**5.**

They attempt the dinner drinks and dessert formula again (this time at a country inn, known for its pub dinners), making sure that Jason was spending the night with a mostly recuperated Alan, ordering Raf to hold the fort on AAU. Serena even dropped a discreet note to Hanssen all but begging him not to disturb her.

It all seems to be going well - cosy dinner, good alcohol, good conversation.

Until they hear the first glass smash to the floor.

"You've _got_  to be joking," Serena groans as the bar brawl kicks off around them.

 

In the end, the two of them spend more time dealing with lacerations and concussions than with each other. By the time the last fool is packed off in an ambulance they fall into bed together in the room they'd had the forethought to book, too exhausted to do anything but sleep the sleep of the dead.

* * *

**...And the one time they did**

 

Their first time is not what either of them envisaged. They'd given up on both planning and spontaneity, and had settled into a kind of easy domesticity; they shared an emotional intimacy that neither of them had really experienced (even with Alex, Bernie had lived from kiss to kiss, adrenaline fuelled and desperate for human reassurance).

It's a Thursday night (or Fish and Chips night, as Jason so helpfully named it) and the two of them are sat in front of the television, picking at their cold chips as they watch Countdown. 

Bernie murmuring answers into Serena's hair as Serena snuggles close, drawing her feet up onto the couch.

"Swot," Serena teases, slapping an affectionate hand against Bernie's sternum.

Bernie barks out a laugh, holds Serena's hand where it is with her own, heart thudding wildly against the warmth of Serena's palm.

"Yes, but _your_ swot, Serena Campbell. Didn't you say you wanted me on your pub quiz team?"

"Come here, you," Serena chuckles, fists her hand in the front of Bernie's shirt, pulls her down for a lazy kiss.

Bernie obliges, and when they break for breath she smiles down at Serena, patiently waits as Serena studies her face, eyes searching Bernie's own.

"Mine?" Serena's voice is small and Bernie's heart breaks a little at the uncertainty she hears. 

"Yours. Always," She promises, as she presses a kiss to Serena's cheek.

Serena nods, once, firmly and then disentangles herself from Bernie, stands.

She holds out her hand to Bernie, who takes it, a small smile of confusion on her face. "Let's go to bed," Serena murmurs, as she tugs her soon-to-be lover up. 

Bernie only smiles and nods, and lets Serena lead the way.


	6. Freudian Slip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These were the little headcanon/mini fics that came to phantomunmasked and myself while I journeyed my way into work and she took a break from studying and we both recovered from last night's episode. Don't expect much. ;)

_This is how it started:_

P: I wonder if Serena engaged in any reading or research to try and make sense of how she felt about Bernie

M: Ooooo maybe. If not in that week, then maybe during this week, now that she's ready to face up to them a little better?

P: perhaps. but what would such research entail?

 

_And then our minds went to work:_

 

*Serena opens google*

enter search term:

~~my best friend kissed me and I kissed back, what does this mean?~~

~~I stare at my friend over wine, why?~~

~~I make excuses to touch my friend, do I fancy her?~~

~~Middle aged woman probably not straight how do I know?~~

Cheap Shiraz UK deliveries

 

*Serena opens amazon*

-> books Search: Lesbianism, a guide

 

* * *

 

_Question: what happened when she got home?_

 

Serena softly sobbing into her pillow as "I kissed a girl" plays on repeat; and then she throws her pillow at the sound system because now she's reached the anger stage.

Jason being properly annoyed and walking into her room: "Auntie Serena, do you realise you have listened to this song 68 times since you got home?"

 

* * *

 

_Question: How does everyone find out?_

Ric has to show a few of the newer boardmembers around the hospital and takes them down to AAU, where a still decidedly distracted Serena is just outside Fletch's room.  
  
"Ah, Serena this is Charles Wilson."  
  
"Lovely to meet you."  Serena holds our her hand.  "Serena Campbell, lesbian." She flinches. " ** _Surgeon_** , I mean, surgeon. Excuse, me Ric I must get on." She slips into Fletch's room, shutting the door behind her.  
  
"Much happen while I was out then, Ms Campbell?"  
  
"Shut it."

 

{Bernie side-eyes Serena the whole day. 

"Are you okay?"

"Peachy."}

 

At the end of the day Bernie waits for Serena to come into the office; and then she wordlessly holds her arms out and Serena just collapses into her for a hug.  Bernie just holds her for a long moment and after a long, comfortable silence she shakes Serena gently; "Albies?"

Serena, face still buried against Bernie's shoulder shakes her head "No" not ready to face the inevitable rumours and gossip that awaits her outside.

"Come on, Serena Campbell, time to face the music". Pulling back, Bernie laces their fingers together and drags Serena to the door.  "And later, we should probably talk."

"Lunch tomorrow?"

"Sounds good. Fire escape? I'll bring the sandwiches."

Serena smiles, pressing for the lift.  "And I'll bring the coffee and midlife sexual identity crisis."

Bernie squeezes her fingers.  "Happens to the best of us."

Serena just looks at her.  "Yes it does."


	7. The Adventures Of Miss Flirt and Major Wolfe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This came out of imagining supervillian Serena constantly being caught by superhero Bernie, and being her usual level of flirty innuendo. Then we might have ramped it up a bit, while running sections of the dialogue backwards and forwards between us. We're considering going a little series, so please let us know what you think. 
> 
> It was also an experiment in dialogue-only writing so, hopefully we managed that okay.
> 
> Thanks for reading - muddlethrough

_**Somewhere in Holby:** _

"Ah, there you are Major Wolfe, on time as always."

"I'd like to say it's good to see you again, Ms Campbell, but I won't."

"Your words would wound me, Major but I see the truth in your eyes."

"You see what you want to see. Why are you breaking into a vineyard?"

"I looked up that wine you like, they make it here."

"That's...when did I tell you what wine I liked?"

"Oh you didn't.  I asked Cameron."

"You've been talking to my SON?"

"Mm? Of course. Do you think I'd let him take Jason camping without even speaking to him?"

"Wait Jason? You're ...you're Auntie Serena?"

"Who else? Now, try this, I think this is the one you said?

"What?"

"Well, I hope it is, because I've already lifted a few cases of it so....if it's not that's a lot of work gone to waste."

"I can't...I'm here to take you in, this is not a time for a chat and a glass of wine."

"Hold your tongue Major Wolfe.  It's never not a time for a good wine."

"Serena-"

"Or I could hold it for you, I can think of at least 69 ways right now."

 

* * *

 

_**Sometime later:** _

"Major Wolfe, the General is wondering if you need any help in here?"

"No, thank you Fletch. Please tell him we'll be out in a bit. Now Ms Campbell, if you'll please hold out your hands."

"Oh Major, you've brought the cuffs this time, how thrilling."

"Please hold still or I'll have to use force to restrain you."

"Ooh, my big sexy army girl. D'you promise?"

"...how much of this wine did you drink before I got here?"

"Just a small taste, couldn't bear it if I stole you bad wine. No, if I'm intoxicated it's only by your presence my dear Major. What is that perfume you're wearing?"

" ...it's just... soap and deodorant?"

"Ahhh, but you smell ever so good. Like a rose. An English rose. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"

"Yes! Do."

"Fletch, shut up. Ms Campbell,you do you know you have the right to remain silent?"

"Of course."

"Well please, for the love of God, use it."

"...I do believe I've flustered you, Major.  I wonder, beneath that buttoned up shirt, is there perhaps a blush upon your skin..."

" ..."

"And if I don't shut up, will you have to gag me?"

"Yeah, Major Wolfe will you?"

"Fletcher, I will have you on desk duty for a month; get back outside. Ms Campbell, under the Geneva Convention I cannot in good faith gag you, no."

"Darn those liberal bleeding hearts, they constantly spoil my fun."

"But I can promise you-"

"--oh, my look at those delightful freckles, I do believe we've not been quite this close before Major. No pardon me, how could I possibly forge-"

"-if you do not stop talking, what we did last night? Not happening again."

"...shutting up."

"Good girl."

 

_**The End (For Now)  
** _


	8. Growing Old Gracefully

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bernie and Serena get wet, get hungry and then...

_**P:** I'm thinking if I should throw in a shared bath/shower thing in Anatomically Correct._

_**M:** Well, who would say no to soapy Serena and bubbles Bernie?_

_Plus you'd just have to have a moment where Serena just looks at the hazard that is maneuvering around on wet ceramic and go..._ "If I break a hip, we're using fake names at the hospital."

_**P:** l don't think it'll get too hot and heavy though I'll probably situate the scene in the middle of the afternoon after their lunchtime ramble._

_So it'll just be them helping each other get clean...with snuggles and snogs on the way_

* * *

It's just past three in the afternoon when they clatter back into their rented cottage, Serena pulling Bernie to her as the front door snicks shut. She steals a kiss, and then another, warmth swooping low in her belly when Bernie kisses back, slow and languid and Serena hums in delight, throws her arms about Bernie's shoulders, prolongs their kiss to something bordering on truly  _indecent_. 

Serena's fingers are on the first button of Bernie's shirt when she pulls away, brow furrowed. 

"Serena..."   
  
"What? Come on, we've got nowhere to be and the cottage - "   
  
Serena leans in, nips at Bernie's jaw, flicks out her tongue to soothe the pain away.

" -  _all to ourselves."_

Bernie only shakes her head, takes both of Serena's hands in her own and kisses her knuckles, pre-empts Serena's glare with  _those eyes,_ peering up through that messy fringe and  _oh -_ Serena's resolve crumbles, and she lets herself be led upstairs, to the (no - _their)_ bedroom. 

Wordlessly Bernie hands Serena a single sheet of paper, an email confirmation for their dinner plans at a truly exclusive country pub.   
  
"I didn't want us to miss this," Bernie says, softly, shyly, as she leans back against the dresser, awkwardly hugging herself. 

Serena says nothing, momentarily stunned that Bernie had remembered Serena's casual wish,  _months ago_ , that she wanted to have dinner at this particular pub. The silence stretches, and Serena finally breaks it with two firm strides forward and the deepest, fiercest hug she can muster. Bernie squeezes back with a tenderness that makes Serena's gut wrench.

"Well then, Ms Wolfe, since you went to all this trouble, I think it fitting we clean ourselves up and make ourselves presentable. Can't have us turning up looking like we've just been tramping across the countryside, can we?"  
  
"But we _have_  just been tramping -"  
  
"That was an invitation to join me for a quick shower, but just for that, you shan't," Serena murmurs teasingly, pulling free of Bernie's grasp to swing the bathroom door shut in Bernie's face with a triumphant grin.   
  
She lets out a squeak of surprise when the door rattles open two minutes later, and she turns, looks over her bare shoulder as Bernie stands there, eyes boldly roaming her naked form through the steam-fogged glass. Suddenly the steam seems almost suffocating, sweet and sickly and stealing her breath from her as she watches Bernie strip down, kicking her trousers away with a careless grace that has Serena swallowing, involuntarily. She watches Bernie's lithe form through the glass, vague lines and shapes coalescing into such  _magnificence_ as the stall door is wrenched open and suddenly she is no longer alone, crowded against the tiled walls as a kiss is stolen and  _ah_  they are fully skin to skin for the first time and it is all Serena can do to focus on the cool of the soap dish pressing into the small of her back, her only tether to staying upright. 

Bernie breaks away with the smallest of kisses pressed to Serena's bottom lip, an echo of their second kiss (because Serena will always remember that, remember the catalytic events of  _Ukraine_ and  _love making fools of us all_ and how in the end, it had brought them so much closer together), and her hands find Serena's hips, rub slick against her skin as the warmth of the shower surrounds them. 

Serena cradles Bernie's face with her hands, pushes darkened blonde hair out of her eyes. She trembles a little at the wonder she sees in those eyes, quashes the rising insecurities racing through her that  _oh god oh god i'm naked and i don't deserve this don't deserve her why i'm just a washed up middle aged crisis-ridden frump oh god why is she looking at me like that she must be wrong somehow -_

But then Bernie's kissing her again, hands gliding over the planes of her body, hesitantly brushing over her breasts, her waist, her back, tugging her close so they are flush against each other, Bernie's knee slipping between Serena's legs and  _oh_ the flood of heat and desire makes her head spin. 

"If I break a hip, we're using fake names at the hospital," Serena finds herself gasping, and she immediately regrets it, feels her hands run cold and her face flush warm. 

Bernie blinks at that and she leans back, hands still linked at the small of Serena's back in a loose embrace.   
  
"What?"   
  
"I...It's just - this - the shower, it's wet and slippery and neither of us are getting any younger and it's not exactly -"   
  
She is cut off by the sound of Bernie's laughter, harsh, guttural barks ricocheting around the bathroom. 

"Oh, never change," Bernie murmurs, as she presses her forehead to Serena's, shaking her head slightly as she closes her eyes, smiles that smile that has Serena involuntarily smiling in return. 

"Let's get clean, then shall we? And then...A little nap and maybe a snack before dinner?"   
  
Serena nods and turns, allows Bernie to rake her fingers through her hair as she lathers, returns the favour and bites her lip at Bernie's moan as her fingers dig into her scalp. 

Soon enough they are both clad in towels, standing shoulder to shoulder before the mirror, rubbing their hair dry. Serena finishes first, of course, and steps back, dips her head to suck the few stray droplets of water lingering on Bernie's bare shoulder, tucks her chin against Bernie's neck as she studies their reflection. Bernie smiles, again, and Serena smiles back, pats Bernie's hip as she turns to leave, reaches for a robe to replace her towel with.

"Hello, you," Bernie murmurs when she emerges from the bathroom, joins Serena on the sofa, leans down to tuck her head under Serena's chin as she cuddles close, arms around Serena's waist.   
  
"Hello," Serena mumbles in reply as she returns the embrace, her heart hammering, stomach swooping at Bernie's uncharacteristic choice of position. She is suffused all of a sudden with a fierce protectiveness then, a hungry sense of possession thatburns in her bones, that _this_ , whatever it was, could only be  _right_. 

A sudden gurgle furrows her brow and she hums in question, feels Bernie's chin dig into her sternum as she looks up.

"I told you I was hungry."

"I thought you meant a different type of hunger."

"I never kid about when I'm hungry."

Another gurgle.

Serena nudges Bernie upright, glares at her midriff and pokes it with a huff of irritation.

"Cockblock."

Bernie smirks, her gaze fond as she traps Serena's hand against her middle with her own. 

"Is that term appropriate when there's no cock to block?"

"Shut up, you. C'mon then. Scones and tea it is."

They raid the cottage's kitchen together, grateful that their hosts had left them a plate of scones and some sandwiches in the fridge. Serena busies herself with making them a pot of tea, and she can only stare at the three scones that go missing (down Bernie's gullet) in the span of time it takes for the kettle to boil.   
  
She watches Bernie wolf down one sandwich, and then another, and tries not to be jealous as she watches Bernie demolish the rest of the plate of scones, ever so thoughtfully leaving Serena with one (and a half). 

Snacktime over, Bernie ambles over to the sofa in the cottage's living room, facing the great bay windows overlooking the countryside. Serena gulps down the last of her tea, wanders over with a smirk to straddle Bernie, leans down for a kiss and a (small) fondle or two. 

"So...where were we?"

Serena rakes her teeth gently down the side of Bernie's neck, sucks at a pulse point, kisses it as she feels Bernie's pulse stutter. 

"Uh, Serena, I uh..."

Bernie's voice is sheepish, and Serena frowns, pushes against Bernie's chest as she levers herself up, stares down at Bernie's guilty face. 

"You're going to fall asleep, aren't you?"

"I won't want to, believe me I won't but, yes. Yes I am."

"Oh, for goodness sake," Serena grumbles, collapsing back down onto Bernie, thudding her forehead repeatedly against Bernie's chest in frustration. 

 

**_A few minutes later..._ **

   
"Mmmm you're like a warm blanket."

"I swear to God, Berenice Wolfe. If you fall asleep before I've got my book-"

A snore, snuffled into Serena's hair. 

"It's like I'm dating a man."

"I smell better," comes the mumbled reply, sleep-slurred and smug.

"And much cheekier. Let me up and then you can have your nap. I'll just take my un-enticing self out for another walk."

"Mmmm, nope."

"Bernie..."

"Shh blanket. Sleep now."

"You'll pay for that."

"Later. Shh. Sleep."

Grumbling beneath her breath, Serena gropes around for the blanket on the back of the sofa and covers them both.

"Don't think this means you win."

"Feels like winning."

"Shut up, Bernie."

The only response Serena receives is Bernie wrapping her arms and legs around her, trapping her close. 

"Now that's just not fair."

"Mmphf."

"We're going to overheat."

"Don't care."

"I'll go blotchy."

"Love you blotchy. Beautiful."

"Well clearly you do need sleep, you're delirious."

"Mm nope. Too many words."

"Bernie...Bernie if you want me to stay here and sleep, you need to move your hand."

"Whaffor?"

"Because if you don't then I'm going to push you off this sofa myself and we're going to end up with carpet burns in places we're far too old for."

"Ngh."

"Better. Now...your knee..."

With a jerk, Bernie pulls her knee away. "For God's sake! Happy now?"

Serena smirks, snuggles closer with one hand against Bernie's sternum. 

"Mm not so loud; I'm trying to sleep."

   
_**A few minutes later again...** _

"Serena."

"Mm."

"Serena."

"Mmmrh?"

"Could you move just a little to the right please. It's just...you're pressing on my bladder."

"Nrgh."

"Serena."

Serena huffs a sigh and shuffles over.

"...It's no good. Let me up, I have to pee."  
  
Serena sighs and lurches upright, wincing a little at the cracking of her vertebrae. 

"You know what, just come join me in bed when you're done. Might as well give it up. We're old, let's just embrace it and be comfortable."

"Speak for yourself."

"Says the woman with the very tiny bladder."

"...five minutes."

"That's the spirit."

Bernie shuffles off and Serena folds the blanket back over the sofa before heading for the bedroom, pulling back the heavy covers.

She heaves a blissful sigh as she lays down, groaning as she stretches out. She is joined soon enough and unashamedly pulls Bernie closer, curling up against her when she gets into bed with a sighing groan of her own.

Bernie moves to reach across Serena's chest for her mobile on the bedside table, earning a raised eyebrow and a glare for moving. 

"Best set an alarm," she mutters, mindful of their reservations.  
  
Serena huffs, tugging Bernie's arm down to rest over her hip. 

"We won't need an alarm."

"Serena..."

"Bernie, you'll be hungry enough in a few hours to wake the dead, we won't sleep through dinner."  
  
"...Touché"

 


	9. Auntie Serena

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> muddlethrough (lindsey_grissom) had the idea that "because of Jason, any children that Morven or Cam or Charlotte or even Elinor have, have a tendency to call Serena 'Auntie Serena'. They treat her like a grandmother but always call her Auntie Serena no matter how much their parents try to talk them out of it. Because they all worship Jason and that's his special name for Serena so that's the one they want to use because then Jason's special person is their special person too." 
> 
> Below is basically our headcanon process on this idea.

1\. Her son was four when he first asked why there were no "Auntie Serena" Christmas cards. Elinor had stared at him in surprise for half a minute before scooping him up, tweaking his nose with a smile. 

"Well then. We'll just have to make our own for gran-Auntie Serena, then won't we?" 

And as they all gathered around Serena's Christmas tree that Christmas Eve, Elinor cast a furtive glance at her mother's mantlepiece and found her heart swelling as she saw at least five cards (of varying artistic skill) that read "Merry Christmas, Auntie Serena". She caught Morven's eye, and then Charlotte's and Cameron's and Jason's, and they all gave her the same smile.

Who needed a granny when you could have an Auntie Serena? 

* * *

  


2\. The tradition of customising Auntie Serena's cards starts with the Fletchlings. Evie started it, Ella following right after. Theo and Mikey choose to express their gruff adoration for their Auntie Serena by declaring an "Auntie Serena Day" (1st October, that being Serena's birthday). It spreads from school to school as the Fletchlings grow, and soon it is Serena and Bernie's own grandchildren that adopt the day, the title. 

"They're all rather bemused, really, that the other children don't have their own Auntie Serena. So they offered to...share you, I guess?"

Morven's smile is shy and Serena blinks back unexpected tears as Bernie brushes past, warm hand on her shoulder as she sets a mug of tea down. 

"These are from the children in their year, I think," Morven says, as she slides across a small stack of cards, slips of paper with drawings on them; cheery colours and large writing wishing nothing but happiness and wellness "to Auntie Serena". 

This time, Serena can't quite help the small sob that escapes as she smiles, wobbly. Morven beams at her and Bernie drops a kiss to her cheek as she sifts through the well wishes of so many tiny ones that have come to adore her so. 

* * *

  
3\. Serena receives a mountain of presents from Bernie when she turns 55. Each present is thoughtfully chosen, solid proof of her partner's devotion to her. 

"Here. One last one," Bernie says and nudges over a bulky package, wrapped in plain brown paper (Serena had taken it upon herself to give Bernie very thorough tutorials indeed on how to properly wrap presents, after Ukraine). 

"What's this?" Serena mutters, but Bernie only smiles, shyly and nods at her to open the present. 

"World's...greatest... Auntie Serena? Bernie what-?"

"Hold on, I'll be right back!"

Serena can only stare as her lover bolts from the room, winces as she hears something thud to the ground and the sound of messy rummaging. 

"Oh, Bernie," she sighs as she turns the garment in her hands over, discovers it's a hoodie. Shrugging, she slides the zipper down, slips it over her shoulders.

A perfect fit.

"Do you like it?"

Bernie is breathless, standing in the doorway, a wad of burgundy fabric in her hands. 

"It's lovely, thank you, darling," Serena muses, standing and twirling to model her gift. 

Bernie's smile is breathtakingly brilliant as she shakes out the fabric, reveals a matching hoodie. 

"I got a matching one!" Bernie flips the hoodie round, shows Serena the gold letters that spell out 'I'm with Auntie Serena'. 

"You're ridiculous, you know that don't you?" Serena grins, blushing as she shoves her hands into the pockets of the hoodie. 

Bernie's only reply is another grin as she too shrugs on her hoodie, bounds across the room to drag Serena into a hug.

"I love you, Serena," she murmurs into her ear and Serena huffs a laugh, tightens her grip around her lover's waist, nuzzles her cheek against soft burgundy as she tucks in her chin, presses closer to Bernie. 

"I love you too," she sighs, fingers tracing absently over the gold lettering on the back of Bernie's hoodie. 

* * *

  


4\. It is a mild September afternoon and Serena is calmly strolling down the bread aisle, consulting her trusty shopping list, Bernie trailing behind with the half-full trolley. They're both wearing their matching burgundy hoodies, blithely ignoring the double takes and raised eyebrows that inevitably come their way.

(Serena had long made it her policy not to care; the hoodies are comfortable and practical, and therefore perfect for a quick jaunt to the shops) 

So engrossed is Serena in deciphering Bernie's impossible handwriting on her otherwise perfectly legible shopping list that she does not hear the pounding of tiny footsteps until the small child that had been pelting down the aisle collides solidly with her.

She lets out an inevitable "oof" and takes two steps backwards to steady herself, the child clinging to her waist. Still stunned, Serena lets the child hug her, pets her head until the girl steps back with a grin (heart melting at the missing two front teeth). 

"Hello Auntie Serena!" 

Serena raises her eyebrows, turns to shoot Bernie a questioning look.

"It must be the hoodie," Bernie murmurs as she draws level with them, slows the trolley to a stop. 

Serena nods her understanding, peers down at the girl. 

"Hello. What's your name then, darling?" 

"I'm Annie, and Ella told me all about you!" Comes the breathless reply and Serena finds herself being hugged again, little Annie burying her face in her tummy. 

Bernie snorts a little at that and Serena shoots her a mock glare before gently pulling back, wincing at the crack in her knees as she crouches to look Annie in the eye. 

"That's very nice, Annie, and I'm glad that you and Ella are friends. But could you tell me where your mummy is, then?" 

She isn't prepared for the tears that brim in the child's eyes. 

"Daddy says that she's gone to live with the angels, and...and she won't b-b-be coming b-b-back," she whimpers, and Serena feels her heart crack, just a little, gathers Annie into her arms. 

"Is that why Ella told you about me, then?" Serena asks, when the tears seem to have slowed and Annie nods, wipes her nose on the back of her hand with a sniffle. 

"Here," Bernie's voice is gentle as she offers Annie a tissue, the little girl taking it with a shy "thank you". 

Serena is on the verge of asking her new friend where her father is when the answer comes thundering around the corner. 

"Annie! Annie, what did I say about running off-" 

Serena raises an eyebrow at the panicked voice. She knows that harried look, has seen that same frown on Fletch's face innumerable times before. She accepts Bernie's silent offer of a hand getting back up, wincing as her knees crack (again). 

"I'm so sorry about my Annie, she just has this habit of-" 

"It's quite alright, no harm done, was there, Annie?" 

Serena lets her hand be taken by the child, extends her other to shake the newcomer's hand. 

"Serena Campbell. You must be Annie's dad?" 

"I, uh-" 

"Bernie Wolfe. And yes, she's  _that_ Auntie Serena," Bernie smiles, smoothly filling the stunned silence that follows Serena's introduction. 

"James... James Robertson," he replies, wary gaze flitting between his daughter's adoring grin up at Serena and Serena's answering smile, warm and sincere. 

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Bernie murmurs, stepping closer to James to give him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. 

"Our friend Fletch... Well, he went through what you're going through now and... I guess that's why his daughter Ella told Annie all about her Auntie Serena," she explains, watching her partner converse solemnly and seriously with her newfound friend about the merits of Milky Bars versus Maltesers. 

"I..." 

Bernie frowns, takes in the bags under James' eyes, the exhaustion in his slumped shoulders. Wordlessly she meets Serena's eye and quirks a brow, flicks her eyes to James in silent question. A small pause, and then a nod. 

"How would you like to help me finish my shop then, Annie? If your dad doesn't mind, that is," Serena asks, chuckling a little at the excited response she receives.  

"I really couldn't-" 

"She'll be fine, I promise. Let's get a cup of tea, shall we?" Bernie mutters, taking James' elbow. He hesitates once more, clearly torn between his daughter and the promise of a short reprieve. 

He sighs. 

"Alright then. Annie, you be good for the nice lady, right? I'll see you in a bit then, monkey." 

Annie giggles at the nickname and toddles over to give her dad a hug, babbling her promise to be obedient. 

With one last look over his shoulder, James lets himself be led down the bread aisle by a bemused Bernie, a small smile on his face as they leave Serena and Annie poring over her shopping list once more.

"Thank you," James mutters, rather shyly. 

Bernie beams at him and pats him on the shoulder once more.

"C'mon. Stong tea, and sugar. What every soldier needs to get them through the day," is all she says, and that, as they say, is that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a 5th part to this, set years in the future where Auntie Serena Day is still celebrated by a group of children who never met her, but through their parents grow up feeling like they know her all the same. 
> 
> Only we decided that it was too sad to write this time of year so we're benching that part until January when we'll be more inclined towards that level of fluffy angst.
> 
> THANKS FOR READING AND HAVE A MERRY CHRISTMAS!


End file.
